


Reasons to Wear Your Husband as A Scarf

by thecoquimonster



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoquimonster/pseuds/thecoquimonster
Summary: It certainly makes an interesting fashion statement.





	Reasons to Wear Your Husband as A Scarf

**Author's Note:**

> The ship name is ineffable husbands but are they married? Should I have used 'boyfriend' in the title instead? Do I actually care? Nah.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Inspired by a ton of headcanons and fanarts.

Aziraphale flipped to the next page of the book. He did not hear the bell in the front of the store jingle. If he had, it probably wouldn’t have concerned him anyway, because there was only one other man-shaped being around with the ability to unlock doors with a single thought. And the bookshop for said man-shaped being had become somewhat of a second home.

Aziraphale felt an odd weight on his shoulders, like someone had draped a blanket over him. He twitched as a low hissing sound reached his ears. Aziraphale looked away from the book and onto his shoulder to see the Serpent on his shoulder.

Crowley flicked his tongue out. Aziraphale wasn’t very good at telling what emotions were going through Crowley in his snake form*, but the way in which Crowley gestured with his tongue held an air of annoyance. “Angel, your shop’s been closed for days.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, dogearing his book** so that he would remember where he left off. “Did I worry you again?”

~.~

*Mostly because Crowley rarely changed into a snake.

**This author would never dare to bookmark their pages by dogearing, and is frankly horrified that anyone would.

~.~

Crowley pushed his head against Aziraphale’s cheek. His cool scales gave Aziraphale the strangest feeling of comfort. “No. But I missed you. I hadn’t heard from you since we had lunch the other day.”

“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “You could have walked in the day after and I wouldn’t have minded.”

“But you were so excited to read this one!” Crowley said. He glanced down at the cover of the book. If snakes could frown, he did. “I couldn’t distract you.”

“You are not a distraction,” said Aziraphale. “Do you want anything?”

Crowley’s tongue flicked out again. He wrapped his body around Aziraphale’s neck like a loose scarf. Aziraphale reached up to stroke the top of Crowley’s head. Crowley just about hummed with contentment. “Your company.”

He had been offering tea or wine, but Crowley’s answer warmed Aziraphale’s stomach more than any hot tea or alcohol ever could. Yes, Crowley’s company was all he had wanted now, too.

Aziraphale opened his book and laid back against the couch, more comfortable than he had been before. He began to read aloud too, until Crowley mentioned that he hadn’t read the book before and didn’t know what was going on. Aziraphale offered to flip back to the beginning, but Crowley insisted that he didn’t need to hear the story. After about twenty minutes, Crowley said that Aziraphale could just read aloud from where he was anyway, because he didn’t like the quiet and wanted to hear Aziraphale’s voice.

Aziraphale complied, reading aloud until he tired of it. By then, Crowley had fallen fast asleep, still curled up around Aziraphale’s neck in his snake form, snoring lightly. Without having to read out loud, Aziraphale’s reading sped up and he finished in an hour or two.

Aziraphale adjusted his glasses and peered at the clock that hung on the wall in the back room. It had run out of battery around two years ago and Aziraphale could never remember to go pick up more batteries at the corner store. New batteries were almost unnecessary, anyway, considering it always seemed to tell the right time whenever it realized that he or Crowley was looking at it.

It was 9:43 at night. Aziraphale figured that now was as good a time as any to open the shop up for a good thirty-six minutes before he went to bed.

He went out into the front of the store and switched the sign so that it read ‘open’. His movement roused Crowley from sleep. “Wha’s go’n on, ‘ngel?”

“I’m only opening the shop, my dear. How was your nap?”

“Lovely,” said Crowley. “How was your book?”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale said, walking over to a bookshelf and frowning at the hardcover editions. He frowned and took a few off of the shelves, meaning to rearrange them. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Crowley echoed.

And so Aziraphale launched into an explanation of how the ending had completely ruined what he’d thought the author was trying to say, and it was irritating him a bit.

“Can’t trust humans to do what you want them to,” Crowley mused, “even with books, I suppose.”

“Hello?” another voice called out as the bell rang out a warning to the unsuspecting would-be customer that they should not want to come into the store. “Are you still open?”

“No,” Crowley said, in that particular tone he used where Aziraphale could not tell whether he was being serious or sarcastic, “come back again at two in the morning and check.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale chastised softly.

“You’re going to chase her off anyway. I might as well help with matters,” Crowley muttered.

The owner of the unwelcome voice rounded a corner and found herself right where Aziraphale was stacking books. Her eyes widened at the sight of the snake wrapped around the angel’s neck like a very fashionable, living scarf. She let out a squeak.

“Can I help you, dear?” Aziraphale asked, in that particular tone he used when he would rather eat a worm than sell any of his collection.

Crowley hissed sulkily and made a point of ignoring the customer. It was a very precise movement for a serpent; he turned his head away from the girl and began to climb down Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale glanced down and found that Crowley was trying to wrap himself around his waist.

“Really, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “That’s a bit unnecessary.”

Crowley raised his head. Snakes could not blink, but Crowley did, if only to show his displeasure.

“You—have a snake?” the girl asked, her face pale. “Is that a goddamned anaconda?”

Crowley hissed again. Aziraphale knew that he was holding back his laughter. Goddamned indeed.

“I’m not sure,” said Aziraphale. “Are you an anaconda, Crowley?”*

~.~

*He was clearly not, but anacondas were the only constricting snakes that this girl knew, and so she had to ask.

~.~

Crowley did not answer, but he tilted his head as though he’d been considering it. It certainly would give the customer a good scare. But she seemed alarmed enough. Having confronted a snake itself had made her forget what she had been looking for, and she scrambled out of the bookstore without a second glance.

“Finally she’s gone!” said Crowley. He began to climb up Aziraphale’s arm.

The angel shook his head, trying to hide his fondness. “What am I going to do with you?”

Crowley transformed back into his usual self. The sudden extra weight unbalanced Aziraphale, and they tumbled down onto the floor together. Aziraphale pushed himself up and found his gaze locked with Crowley’s mischievous golden eyes.

“You could kiss me,” Crowley suggested with a grin. His hands were pressing against Aziraphale’s back, pressing him back down.

Aziraphale threaded his hand through Crowley’s hair and kissed him. Crowley gripped the fabric of Aziraphale’s jumper and kept kissing, careful and precise. Aziraphale pulled away for a moment just to look at him, but Crowley tugged at him impatiently. He let out a short laugh and complied with Crowley’s wordless requests.

Any other customers that might drop by would see that the owner of the bookstore was quite preoccupied already. The store hadn’t even been open for the full thirty-six minutes, but the door locked itself shut to save anyone else from the embarrassment.


End file.
